Home for a Night
by MajorSam
Summary: She was waiting for him when he got home.


**Home for a Night**  
 **By: MajorSam**

A/N: I wrote this as a speculative fic way back at the beginning of June. I created the FF category of "Absentia" specially for it but then never got around to posting... woops! Some friends finally urged me to post. Remember this was an unedited Spec fic, based solely on the few vague rumours that existed back then. All else was what my little shipper heart imagined could happen. I'm glad I got a few things right :p 

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She was waiting for him when he got home.

Tired, no, exhausted as he was, he hadn't seen any of the signs. He'd just trudged heavy footed to his bedroom, wanting nothing more than to fall onto the bed and sleep. Everyone had agreed it would be better if his wife and son went to stay with Alice's sister till everything was figured out and the situation was a bit calmer. Emily hadn't wanted Flynn to go, but… He hadn't expected to see anyone in his house for days so when he finally glanced up and saw a figure on the bed his first instinct was to reach for his weapon. Which he'd already put into the lockbox for the night. For a moment his heart raced, his highly tuned adrenal responses firing into overdrive, ready to give him the edge to fight physically if he needed. But he blinked, focused, and realized it was her.

Waiting for him.

In his bedroom.

He stood stock still, heart thudding painfully for a different reason now. His hands were still poised at his side clasping his invisible sidearm. She just lay there, looking at him, one arm draped above her head on the pillow, the other resting against her waist. She was wearing his robe.

"How did you get in?" he finally asked, his voice quiet but deep.

"Really?" her voice was wry. "I might not remember the last 6 years but you've always kept a spare key under the flower pot."

"An FBI agent keeping his keys under a pot." He laughed and shook his head and she smiled, wide and bright, like they always did when they joked about it. He sobered quickly.

"What are you doing here?"

"This is my home."

"Emily..."

"You," she slowly ascended from the bed, graceful and lithe as always. "Are my home."

She moved towards him, bare feet silent on the carpet and he couldn't move, still couldn't believe she was back. When was the last time this had happened? Her, in his bedroom, stalking towards him with hooded eyes. How many times had he dreamed of this, begged for this, prayed for this to happen just one more time... But things were different now. He was different, she was different. He shouldn't, he couldn't, but still he was frozen. She was a literal dream come back to life, the beautiful, strong, sexy, smart, amazing love of his life.

She stopped mere inches away from him and gazed up at him through luminous, soulful eyes. "I might not remember the last 6 years," she said quietly. "But I remember this. I remember you. You're all I know, Nick." Her hand rose to his cheek, slender fingers cool against his skin as she stroked his jaw. A shiver wracked his body and he breathed out heavily. She smelled the same, the scent of her clouding his brain, and his body reacted how it always had to her.

She smiled and it was sad but heart breakingly hopeful.

"I could never forget this," she whispered and then her lips were on his, soft and light and perfect. And wrong. He tried to move away but found he couldn't. He grasped her arms to push her away but his fingers refused to comply, gripping stronger instead. She made a sound in the back of her throat and pursed her lips, kissing him harder. His conscience screamed at him to stop but he couldn't, he had her taste in his mouth again and he couldn't lose it, lose her again. He pulled her flush against him, burying his hands in her lush hair and opening his mouth to her. She whimpered and grabbed his head between her hands, angling herself to kiss him as deeply as possible. Her tongue danced with his with practiced knowledge yet it lit him up like it was their first time all over again. She pressed against him, body undulating sinfully and he groaned, his clothes suddenly too tight and too hot. She grinned and nipped at his lip before pressing her hands to his chest and pushing away. He frowned and reached for her but she grinned, biting her bottom lip in that way that drove him crazy as she swiftly untied the sash of the robe and let it slip from her shoulders.

His breath left him. She was perfect. Her body was sheathed in dark lace, a rather simple set but she'd never needed enhancement. She was way too thin, too pale, with a few deep bruises still showing but he didn't see any of that. All he saw was his perfect wife; tall and poised with dark hair flowing in waves to her shoulders. In the hazy moonlight she looked like a ghost. An angel. Ethereal beauty. He wondered if this was all a dream after all.

She came forward and he caught a long curl of hair between his fingers, twirled it around. She smiled up at him, almost shy this time. He let his fingers climb to her ear, tucking the hair behind and cradling her face in his hand. Her cheekbone was sharp as a knife. He leaned down and kissed it. She was hard angles and steel, but soft and smooth for him. His lips brushed her cheek, slowly moving to her lips. She grasped his arms and they stood there for what could have been hours, kissing slowly, deeply, connecting on a level so much more profound than just physical.

She gently nudged the jacket from his shoulders. His mouth drifted down, her head tilting in sync to let him touch her neck, teeth grazing her pulse before his tongue soothed it. He both felt and heard the vibration of her humming approval. He grabbed her hips and ground against her causing them both to gasp. She tore his mouth from her neck and forced it back up to her own, no longer slow. He stroked his hands up her back... and froze.

She made a noise of discontent, nudged her nose into his.

"Don't stop," she urged.

"E... Emily..." he stuttered.

"What?" She pulled away, frowning.

"Your back..."

Scars. The creamy canvass of her back was a maze of scarring. Thin, thick, short and long.

"I couldn't feel your hand," she admitted quietly, looking down to avoid his eyes. "I forget they were there."

Of course she had. From her perspective they couldn't be there. How could she have permanent nerve damage and a map of scars across her skin when mere weeks ago she was a happy wife with a perfect baby and a new puppy?

His eyes welled. Permanent nerve damage. The evidence of years of abuse and torture. Broken bones healing only to be broken again. He hadn't found her. He'd given up. Moved on. Failed her. Vivid images flooded his mind of Emily lying on cold, dirty ground, writhing, bleeding, screaming as her captor beat and beat and beat.

"Stop it," She barked at him. "Don't! Please!"

Tears were dripping down his cheeks, his fingers still navigating her back. How could anyone do that to a person? To _her_?

"Please, Nick," she was pleading now. "They don't matter. None of it matters." She reached around her back and grabbed his hands, stilling them. She brought them to the clasp of her bra and coaxed him into undoing it. She shrugged it off.

"The only thing that matters is this." She guided his hand to her breast. "Us. Me, you, together."

His thumb stroked her skin and her eyes fluttered shut.

"You are all I know," she murmured. "All I want to know. I'm alive, I'm back, I'm here." She looked up at him, desperate. "Now bring me home."

His other hand lifted to her opposite breast and his thumbs stroked in unison. Her skin erupted in goosebumps and her body shook as she covered his hands with hers and leaned in to rest her forehead against his. He could feel her heartbeat through her skin. She was alive. This was real. She was back and she was in his arms.

He breathed her name reverently and claimed her lips. He'd been given a second chance. He wouldn't waste it.

"Yes," she moaned, wrapping her arms around him. "Nick!"

Any hesitation or softness was gone. His hands fell to her ass, grasping the taut cheeks and lifting her like she weighed nothing, turning their bodies and slamming her back against the wall. She laughed, husky and guttural and bit down on his lip, hard. He growled and she gathered the lip in her mouth, sucking, soothing. He kneaded her ass, fingers slipping under lace and she rolled her body against him. She tightened her arms around his torso and pushed with her hips off the wall. He took her cue, always knowing what she wanted, and carried her to the bed. As soon as she hit the mattress she was clawing at his shirt, belt, pants. Despite her head start he was naked before she was, her hand darting out to encircle him as soon as he was free.

"God..." he choked, blood pounding in his ears, head swimming at her touch. He moved to touch her and realized there was still one final barrier between them. He tried to hook his thumbs in the lace to pull it down but they were clumsy and useless, his body too wired for fine motor function.

"Rip them," she commanded and God how he'd missed her voice, like that, deep and sexy and only for him. He did as he was told and seconds later he was inside her.

Home.

They cried out as one, and he was horrified to find tears in his eyes again. When he looked at her, though, she did as well.

"Am I... did I hurt you?"

The Doctors had said there was no evidence of sexual abuse, thank God, but whatever her mental memories said, her body didn't remember having had a partner for over six years.

"No," she shook her head. "No. I just..."

She gazed up at him, floundering.

"Yeah... me too."

She pursed her lips and nodded, trying to hold back the tears but it made his worse.

"Oh god," he kissed her messily. "I missed you. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too. Thought I'd lost you."

"No. No, never."

He started to move and her cries turned to those of pleasure. With all the tension, build-up, emotion, neither lasted long. They were both frantic. He was wild, trying to touch every inch of her all at once, re-learning every precious part of her while he innately remembered exactly what pleased her most. She let him do whatever he wanted, her mind telling her it had only been a few weeks since they'd made love while her body just wanted to hold him, be as close as possible and never let go. They crashed as one, tears and laughter and the sounds of pure carnal pleasure echoing through the room.

He collapsed on top of her and she held him there, arms and legs wrapped around him as tight as her spent body could manage.

"I love you," she gasped.

He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot and panting against her. "I love you too." His voice was strained and overwrought with emotion. "I never stopped, I swear. I've always loved you. Always will."

As their heartbeats started to slow he peeled his head from her shoulder to look at her. He thought he'd never again see hazy glow of completion on her face, flushed and red and the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He knew deep down that the night would have consequences, that it wouldn't just be second chance bliss from now on.

But in that moment, that night? For the first time in 6 years...

They were both home.

 **The End**

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So how close do you think I guessed it? Should I post the other one I wrote that doesn't end so happily? Should I start writing real fic now that the show has aired ;)


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